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HARTMAN: I am Gunnery Sergeant Hartman, your Senior Drill Instructor. From now on, you will speak only when spoken to, and the first and last words out of your filthy sewers will be "Sir!" Do you maggots understand that?

RECRUITS: Sir, yes, sir!

HARTMAN: Bullshit! I can't hear you. Sound off like you got a pair.

RECRUITS: Sir, yes, sir!

HARTMAN: If you ladies leave my island, if you survive recruit training ... you will be a weapon, you will be a minister of death, praying for war. But until that day you are pukes! You're the lowest form of life on Earth. You are not even human fucking beings! You are nothing but unorganized grabasstic pieces of amphibian shit! Because I am hard, you will not like me. But the more you hate me, the more you will learn. I am hard, but I am fair! There is no racial bigotry here! I do not look down on niggers, kikes, wops or greasers. Here you are all equally worthless! And my orders are to weed out all non-hackers who do not pack the gear to serve in my beloved Corps! Do you maggots understand that?





JOKER: Is that you, John Wayne? Is this me?

HARTMAN: Who said that? Who the fuck said that? Who's the slimy little communist shit twinkle-toed cocksucker down here, who just signed his own death warrant? Nobody, huh?! The fairy fucking godmother said it! Out-fucking-standing! I will P.T. you all until you fucking die! I'll P.T. you until your assholes are sucking buttermilk. Was it you, you scroungy little fuck, huh?!

COWBOY: Sir, no, sir!

HARTMAN: You little piece of shit! You look like a fucking worm! I'll bet it was you!

COWBOY: Sir, no, sir!

JOKER: Sir, I said it, sir!

HARTMAN: Well ... no shit. What have we got here, a fucking comedian? Private Joker? I admire your honesty. Hell, I like you. You can come over to my house and fuck my sister. You little scumbag! I've got your name! I've got your ass! You will not laugh! You will not cry! You will learn by the numbers. I will teach you. Now get up! Get on your feet! You had best unfuck yourself or I will unscrew your head and shit down your neck!





HARTMAN: What's your excuse?

COWBOY: Sir, excuse for what, sir?

HARTMAN: I'm asking the fucking questions here, Private. Do you understand?!

COWBOY: Sir, yes, sir!

HARTMAN: Well thank you very much! Can I be in charge for a while?

COWBOY: Sir, yes, sir!

HARTMAN: Are you shook up? Are you nervous?

COWBOY: Sir, I am, sir!

HARTMAN: Do I make you nervous?

COWBOY: Sir!

HARTMAN: Sir, what? Were you about to call me an asshole?!

COWBOY: Sir, no, sir!

HARTMAN: How tall are you, Private?

COWBOY: Sir, five foot nine, sir!

HARTMAN: Five foot nine? I didn't know they stacked shit that high! You trying to squeeze an inch in on me somewhere, huh?

COWBOY: Sir, no, sir.

HARTMAN: Bullshit! It looks to me like the best part of you ran down the crack of your mama's ass and ended up as a brown stain on the mattress! I think you've been cheated!

HARTMAN: Where in hell are you from anyway, Private?

COWBOY: Sir, Texas, sir!

HARTMAN: Holy dogshit! Texas! Only steers and queers come from Texas, Private Cowboy! And you don't look much like a steer to me, so that kinda narrows it down! Do you suck dicks!

COWBOY: Sir, no, sir!

HARTMAN: Are you a peter-puffer?

COWBOY: Sir, no, sir!

HARTMAN: I'll bet you're the kind of guy that would fuck a person in the ass and not even have the goddam common courtesy to give him a reach-around! I'll be watching you!





HARTMAN: Did your parents have any children that lived?

PYLE: Sir, yes, sir!

HARTMAN: I'll bet they regret that! You're so ugly you could be a modern art masterpiece! What's your name, fatbody?

PYLE: Sir, Leonard Lawrence, sir!

HARTMAN: Lawrence? Lawrence, what, of Arabia?

PYLE: Sir, no, sir!

HARTMAN: That name sounds like royalty! Are you royalty?

PYLE: Sir, no, sir!

HARTMAN: Do you suck dicks?

PYLE: Sir, no, sir!

HARTMAN: Bullshit! I'll bet you could suck a golf ball through a garden hose!

PYLE: Sir, no, sir!

HARTMAN: I don't like the name Lawrence! Only faggots and sailors are called Lawrence! From now on you're Gomer Pyle!

PYLE: Sir, yes, sir!

HARTMAN: Do you think I'm cute, Private Pyle? Do you think I'm funny?

PYLE: Sir, no, sir!

HARTMAN: Then wipe that disgusting grin off your face!

PYLE: Sir, yes, sir!

HARTMAN: Well, any fucking time, sweetheart!

PYLE: Sir, I'm trying, sir.

HARTMAN: Private Pyle, I'm gonna give you three seconds--excactly three fucking seconds--to wipe that stupid-looking grin off your face, or I will gouge out your eyeballs and skull-fuck you! One! Two! Three!

PYLE: Sir, I can't help it, sir!

HARTMAN: Bullshit! Get on your knees, scumbag! Now choke yourself! Goddamn it, with my hand, numbnuts!! Don't pull my fucking hand over there! I said choke yourself! Now lean forward and choke yourself!





HARTMAN: Tonight ... you pukes will sleep with your rifles! You will give your rifle a girl's name! Because this is the only pussy you people are going to get! Your days of finger-banging old Mary Jane Rottencrotch through her pretty pink panties are over! You're married to this piece, this weapon of iron and wood! And you will be faithful! Port ... hut! Prepare to mount! Mount! Port... hut! Pray!

RECRUITS: This is my rifle. There are many like it, but this one is mine. My rifle is my best friend. It is my life. I must master it, as I must master my life. Without me my rifle is useless. Without my rifle, I am useless. I must fire my rifle true. I must shoot straighter than my enemy who is trying to kill me. I must shoot him before he shoots me. I will. Before God I swear this creed. My rifle and myself are defenders of my country. We are the masters of our enemy. We are the saviours of my life. So be it .. . until there is no enemy... but peace. Amen.

HARTMAN: Order... hut! At ease! Good night, ladies.





HARTMAN: Get up here, fatboy! Quickly! Move it up! Move it up, Pyle! Move it up! You climb obstacles like old people fuck. Do you know that, Private Pyle? Get up here! You're too slow! Move it, move it! Private Pyle, whatever you do, don't fall down! That would break my fucking heart! Quickly! Up and over! Up and over! Well, what in the fuck are you waiting for, Private Pyle? Get up and over! Move it, move it, move it! Are you quitting on me? Well, are you! Then quit you slimy fucking walrus-looking piece of shit! Get the fuck off my obstacle! Get the fuck down off of my obstacle! Now! Move it! I'm gonna rip your balls off so you cannot contaminate the rest of the world! I will motivate you, Private Pyle, if it short-dicks every cannibal on the Congo!





HARTMAN: Pick'em up and set'em down, Pyle! Quickly! Move it up! Were you born a fat slimy scumbag, you piece of shit, Private Pyle? Or did you have to work on it? Move it up! Quickly! Hustle up! The fucking war will be over by the time we get out there, won't it, Private Pyle? Move it! Are you going to fucking die, Pyle? Are you going to die on me!! Do it now! Move it up! Hustle it up! Quickly, quickly, quickly! Do you feel dizzy? Do you feel faint? Jesus H. Christ, I think you've got a hard-on!





HARTMAN: Private Cowboy! Private Joker!

COWBOY: Sir, yes, sir!

JOKER: Sir, yes, sir!

HARTMAN: As soon as you finish your bunks, I want you two turds to clean the head.

JOKER & COWBOY: Sir, aye-aye, sir!

HARTMAN: I want that head so sanitary and squared away that the Virgin Mary herself would be proud to go in there and take a dump!

JOKER & COWBOY: Sir, yes, sir!

HARTMAN: Private Joker, do you believe in the Virgin Mary?

JOKER: Sir, no, sir!

HARTMAN: Private Joker, I don't believe I heard you correctly!

JOKER: Sir, the private said "No, sir," sir!

HARTMAN: Why, you little maggot! You make me want to vomit! You goddam communist heathen, you had best sound off that you love the Virgin Mary... or I'm gonna stomp your guts out! Now you do love the Virgin Mary, don't you?!

JOKER: Sir, negative, sir!!

HARTMAN: Private Joker, are you trying to offend me?!

JOKER: Sir, negative, sir!!! Sir, the private believes that any answer he gives will be wrong! And the Senior Drill Instructor will beat him harder if he reverses himself, sir!

HARTMAN: Who's your squad leader, scumbag?

JOKER: Sir, the private's squad leader is Private Snowball, sir!!!

HARTMAN: Private Snowball!

SNOWBALL: Sir, Private Snowball reporting as ordered, sir!

HARTMAN: Private Snowball, you're fired! Private Joker is promoted to squad leader!

SNOWBALL: Sir, aye-aye, sir!

HARTMAN: Private Pyle!

PYLE: Private Pyle reporting as ordered, sir!

HARTMAN: Private Pyle, from now on Private Joker is your new squad leader, and you will bunk with him! He'll teach you everything. He'll teach you how to pee.

PYLE: Sir, yes, sir!

HARTMAN: Private Joker is silly and he's ignorant, but he's got guts, and guts is enough. Now, you ladies carry on.

JOKER, COWBOY & PYLE: Sir, aye-aye, sir!





HARTMAN: The deadliest weapon in the world is a marine and his rifle. It is your killer instinct which must be harnessed if you expect to survive in combat. Your rifle is only a tool. It is a hard heart that kills. If your killer instincts are not clean and strong you will hesitate at the moment of truth. You will not kill. You will become dead marines. And then you will be in a world of shit. Because marines are not allowed to die without permission! Do you maggots understand?

RECRUITS: Sir, yes, sir!





HARTMAN: Do any of you people know who Charles Whitman was? None of you dumbasses knows? Private Cowboy?

COWBOY: Sir, he was that guy who shot all those people from that tower in Austin, Texas, sir!

HARTMAN: That's affirmative. Charles Whitman killed twelve people from a twenty-eight-storey observation tower at the University of Texas from distances up to four hundred yards. Anybody know who Lee Harvey Oswald was? Private Snowball?

SNOWBALL: Sir, he shot Kennedy, sir!

HARTMAN: That's right, and do you know how far away he was?

SNOWBALL: Sir, it was pretty far! From that book suppository building, sir!

HARTMAN: All right, knock it off! Two hundred and fifty feet! He was two hundred and fifty feet away and shooting at a moving target. Oswald got off three rounds with an old Italian bolt action rifle in only six seconds and scored two hits, including a head shot! Do any of you people know where these individuals learned to shoot? Private Joker?

JOKER: Sir, in the Marines, sir!

HARTMAN: In the Marines! Outstanding! Those individuals showed what one motivated marine and his rifle can do! And before you ladies leave my island, you will be able to do the same thing!





HARTMAN: Today... is Christmas! There will be a magic show at zero-nine-thirty! Chaplain Charlie will tell you about how the free world will conquer Communism with the aid of God and a few marines! God has a hard-on for marines because we kill everything we see! He plays His games, we play ours! To show our appreciation for so much power, we keep heaven packed with fresh souls! God was here before the Marine Corps! So you can give your heart to Jesus, but your ass belongs to the Corps! Do you ladies understand?

RECRUITS: Sir, yes, sir!

HARTMAN: I can't hear you!

RECRUITS: Sir, yes, sir!





HARTMAN: What is this Mickey Mouse shit? What in the name of Jesus H. Christ are you animals doing in my head? Why is Private Pyle out of his bunk after lights out?! Why is Private Pyle holding that weapon? Why aren't you stomping Private Pyle's guts out?

JOKER: Sir, it is the private's duty to inform the Senior Drill Instructor that Private Pyie has a full magazine and has locked and loaded, sir!





RAFTERMAN: Yeah... You know what really pisses me off about these people?

JOKER: What?

RAFTERMAN: We're supposed to be helping them and they shit all over us every chance they get... I just can't feature that.

JOKER: Don't take it too hard, Rafterman. It's just business.

RAFTERMAN: I hate Da Nang, Joker. I want to go out into the field. I've been in this country almost three months, and all I do is take handshake shots at awards ceremonies.

JOKER: You get wasted your first day in the field and it'd be my fault.

RAFTERMAN: A high school girl could do my job. I want to get out into the shit. I want to get some trigger time.

JOKER: If you get killed, your mom will find me after I rotate back to the world and she'll beat the shit out of me. That's a negative, Rafterman.





LOCKHART: "Diplomats in Dungarees--Marine engineers lend a helping hand rebuilding Dong Phuc villages..." Chili, if we move Vietnamese, they are evacuees. If they come to us to be evacuated, they are refugees.

CHILI: I'll make a note of it, sir.

LOCKHART: "N.V.A. Soldier Deserts After Reading Pamphlets --A young North Vietnamese Army regular, who realized his side could not win the war, deserted from his unit after reading Open Arms program pamphlets." That's good, Dave. But why say North Vietnamese Army regular? Is there an irregular? How about North Vietnamese Army soldier?

DAVE: I'll fix it up, sir.

LOCKHART: Lawrence Welk Show's gonna go out on TV in two weeks. Dave, do a hundred words on it. AFTV'll give you some background stuff.

DAVE: Yes, sir.

LOCKHART: "Not While We're Eating--N.V.A. learn marines on a search and destroy mission don't like to be interrupted while eating chow."Search and destroy. Uh, we have a new directive from M.A.F. on this. In the future, in place of"search and destroy," substitute the phrase "sweep and clear." Got it?

JOKER: Got it. Very catchy.

LOCKHART: And, Joker... where's the weenie?

JOKER: Sir!

LOCKHART: The Kill, JOKER. The kill. I mean, all that fire, the grunts must've hit something.

JOKER: Didn't see 'em.

LOCKHART: Joker, I've told you, we run two basic stories here. Grunts who give half their pay to buy gooks toothbrushes and deodorants--Winning of Hearts and Minds--okay? And combat action that results in a kill--Winning the War. Now you must have seen blood trails... drag marks?

JOKER: It was raining, sir.

LOCKHART: Well, that's why God passed the law of probability. Now rewrite it and give it a happy ending--say, uh, one kill. Make it a sapper or an officer. Which?

JOKER: Whichever you say.

LOCKHART: Grunts like reading about dead officers.

JOKER: Okay, an officer. How about a general?

LOCKHART: Joker, maybe you'd like our guys to read the paper and feel bad. I mean, in case you didn't know it, this is not a particularly popular war. Now, it is our job to report the news that these why-are-we-here civilian newsmen ignore.

JOKER: Sir, maybe you should go out on some ops yourself. I'm sure you could find a lot more blood trails and drag marks.

LOCKHART: JOKER, I've had my ass in the grass. Can't say I liked it much. Lots of bugs and too dangerous. As it happens, my present duties keep me where I belong. In the rear with the gear.





STORK: Hey, Payback. How do you stop five black dudes from raping a white chick?

PAYBACK: Fuck you, Stork.

STORK: Throw 'em a basketball.





DOORGUNNER: Anyone who runs is a V.C. Anyone who stands still is a well-disciplined V.C. You guys oughtta do a story about me sometime.

JOKER: Why should we do a story about you?

DOORGUNNER: 'Cause I'm so fucking good! That ain't no shit neither. I've done got me one hundred and fifty-seven dead gooks killed. And fifty water buffaloes, too. Them're all certified.

JOKER: Any women or children?

DOORGUNNER: Sometimes.

JOKER: How can you shoot women and children?

DOORGUNNER: Easy. You just don't lead 'em so much. Ain't war hell?





JOKER: The dead have been covered with lime. The dead only know one thing. It is better to be alive.





COLONEL: Marine, what is that button on your body armor?

JOKER: A peace symbol, sir.

COLONEL: Where'd you get it?

JOKER: I don't remember, sir.

COLONEL: What is that you've got written on your helmet?

JOKER: "Born to Kill," sir.

COLONEL: You write "Born to Kill" on your helmet and you wear a peace button. What's that supposed to be, some kind of sick joke?!

JOKER: No, sir.

COLONEL: You'd better get your head and your ass wired together, or I will take a giant shit on you!

JOKER: Yes, sir.

COLONEL: Now answer my question or you'll be standing tall before the man.

JOKER: I think I was trying to suggest something about the duality of man, sir.

COLONEL: The what?

JOKER: The duality of man. The Jungian thing, sir.

COLONEL: Whose side are you on, son?

JOKER: Our side, sir.

COLONEL: Don't you love your country?

JOKER: Yes, sir.

COLONEL: Then how about getting with the program? Why don't you jump on the team and come on in for the big win?

JOKER: Yes, sir!

COLONEL: Son, all I've ever asked of my marines is that they obey my orders as they would the word of God. We are here to help the Vietnamese, because inside every gook there is an American trying to get out. It's a hardball world, son. We've gotta keep our heads until this peace craze blows over.

JOKER: Aye-aye, sir.





JOKER: I wanted to see exotic Vietnam, the jewel of Southeast Asia. I wanted to meet interesting and stimulating people of an ancient culture and... kill them. I wanted to be the first kid on my block to get a confirmed kill.





JOKER: We have nailed our names in the pages of history enough for today. We hump down to the Perfume River to set in for the night. My thoughts drift back to erect nipple wet dreams about Mary Jane Rottencrotch and the Great Homecoming Fuck Fantasy. I am so happy that I am alive, in one piece and short. I'm in a world of shit... yes. But I am alive. And I am not afraid.




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